


Black Roast

by niosism



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cronus helps him get over it, Kankri has perpetual highblood anxiety, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25431190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niosism/pseuds/niosism
Summary: He is in a coffee shop when a violetblood comes to torment him with his presence.
Relationships: Cronus Ampora/Kankri Vantas
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	Black Roast

When Kankri was six sweeps old, he vowed to live a life of celibacy. It was only natural for him, the way his skin would prick whenever he had the rare chance of seeing a violetblood come within a few meters of his person, and his head would lower with his gaze turned down at his feet, staring holes into them, pretending to be mildly interested in the old gift Porrim had given him many sweeps ago, his one pair of shoes, lone and lonely and alone. He would always be alone. 

He is in a coffee shop, the only coffee shop he allows himself the pleasure of gracing with his presence, because he is too good for any of the others! They are all more than ten minutes away, he doesn’t have a scuttlebuggy, or a scooter, or any form of transportation, he can’t ride the trains or buses or anything, relies on his friend’s for what he can’t do himself. 

It’s a small shop, never too busy, just a few blocks from his hive, which is not worth explaining in detail at all because it is so small and only has what he needs to survive (plus a computer, thank Gl’bgolyb for the generosity of his friends). He is not here out of his own volition, in fact, he barely ever leaves his hive at all, as he can hear the buzzing of the imperial drones in the neighborhood every day, and he is not suicidal. He just needed a bit of fresh air, is all. He likes this coffee shop, it is one of the few places he can go to relax, the most that can ever relax without his body constantly reminding him of his prison, his own state of perpetual misery and impending doom. 

To set rules in stone for himself meant he could take control of his life and own it as much as he could as a mutant. If he promised to keep his body to himself, whenever any highblood looked at him funny like they could smell his ugly blood beneath his skin, see the shade of his grubscars and the faint blush of his cheeks, it would feel less of a violation, it would just be a hopeless attempt, because he would never allow it. 

Sometimes it’s hard. It’s not so much his teenaged libido, the newfound excitement of touch, nakedness, and pleasure, he can handle that, but he is not always secure in his mind, it’s as if his stubbornness is the only thing that keeps him from losing sight of his promise. Sometimes he thinks he is only hurting himself, to go against this bitch of an Alternia in how those of his kind should be, but hell, his mere existence is an act of rebellion! He should’ve died in the caverns! He shouldn’t have gotten through the trials and now that he has achieved so much for his blood, casteless, he thinks, why can’t he just live as much as he can and be culled whenever the time is right? And then he remembers what happens to rebels who are culled on this planet. 

His is a life of hiding. If he is found by a highblood royalist for who he really is, he knows what his fate is. Murder is too kind for his blood, they would rather torture him instead, first, as a slave, and then, and then… 

Kankri will do what he can to make sure he remains stoic in the face of adversity, of authority, he will not panic, will not scream, will not writhe or show them anything, give them anything, unless they force it out of him. He does not acknowledge how a tumor forms inside of him, ready to burst as soon as he feels the last punch to his stomach, the last arrow to his breast…

“Kankri?”

His head snaps up to glare in front of him, there is a figure, a tall troll with at least 5 inches to his height, hair slicked back with way too much gel, it looks like a black wave that way, the tide is about to rise and! His eyes are sharp and tinged purple, blinking once, twice, his ears are  _ fishy, _ his neck has dark streaks that  _ move,  _ he-

“Are you okay, what? Hello?” 

The troll waves his hand in front of his face. Oh god, it’s a highblood, a  _ seadweller _ , he’s gonna, he’s gonna… Wait. He knows this voice. It’s um, it’s his acquaintance, yes, the one that he has known for a few sweeps now thanks to his friends who had swore on their life he was a “good” seadweller, as good as they came. Kankri was skeptical as shit, but somehow they ended up meeting and it was still uncomfortable, as it always is, but he was alright for a seadweller, he thinks, strangely, he thinks, Ampora is the only one that actually cares to listen to the entirety of his inane rants. Well, not  _ cares _ , he probably doesn’t even have a heart!

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Ampora, it’s been far too long, how have you been faring? It’s been a horrible season lately and the weather no doubt has been stirring up chaos in your side of the sea, you don’t have to explain that to me, I have heard from Peixes of the wave of octopi landing on her castle, very tragic, you don’t live very far from her I assume, you’re both seadwellers anyway, I do feel for her disappearing cuttlefish schools.”

“Oh, yeah, very tragic. Last name basis again? We’ve been through this, Kankri, am I really that much of a stranger to you? We’ve met quite a few times now and you’re a good friend to me, come on, wouldn’t you say the same?” 

It’s hard to say, really, Kankri can count on his two hands the number of times he and Cronus have met, half of them which were not planned, the other half having been Cronus’ suggestion, because why would Kankri suggest the two of them act like friends when his fish cousins were probably all planning to raid his hive, anyway? He wishes Porrim were here. 

“Apologies, Cronus, I simply forgot your name for the first two minutes since I saw you. No, I haven’t been wracking my brain to find it at all, it is a truly hideous sound to my ears.” 

It is definitely not Kankri’s intention, but Cronus’ smirks at that. It is also not Kankri’s intention when his body immediately heats up, his blood boils, and his cheeks flush crimson. It is a violent and embarrassing reaction, he knows this, and he tries his best to control himself, like he so preaches inside of his mind as he was just minutes before. He wants to hide and never see Cronus again. It wasn’t always this way, what is happening to him? He grits his teeth and looks away. Why did Cronus come here? This place is for lowbloods! Go back to your mansion, rich fishfucker! 

“I’ll buy you a drink.”

This gets Kankri even more riled up. He feels a fever coming on, and he really really wants to go home now, there is a second skin covering his own that creeps from the tips of his fingers like a numbing sensation, he is always panicking, but this is different, it doesn’t feel as horrible, but it warms him up from the inside out, like when Porrim brings him savory treats or Mituna plays video games with him. It is a feeling he has never gotten used to, even if he has felt it many times before when this particular troll is around. A part of his brain doesn’t like it, tells him he can’t, he can’t, he promised. What did he promise? His thoughts are never fully fleshed out, just panicky and relentless, like a hammer that makes his head throb.

“No, it’s-”

“It’s my treat.”

Cronus has never interrupted him before. Something tells him he shouldn’t fight him on this. Cronus can’t, he doesn’t, he is-

“Gl’bgolyb, I’m not going to attack you, chill. I know you lowbloods always think we highbloods are out to get you, but have you ever considered that maybe that’s not always the case? Look, I’m not trying to make myself a rep or for the rest of the highbloods, much less seadwellers, because other than the fact that I identify as humankin, I actually like you as a troll. That’s why I keep coming to this godawful place, alright? I like your verbose ass.” 

Kankri is speechless for once in his life. This doesn’t sound like a lie, or a stretch, even if Cronus is known to be a relentless flirt to just about everyone he knows. For once, Cronus Ampora actually sounds… genuine. Kankri hates to admit it, and this just overcomplicates everything. Part of him wishes it weren’t true, that Cronus was just pulling another one of his emotionless flirtings, but another part of him wants to be able to blush and push his fingers together and act like a complete fool. Maybe, just maybe, he can allow himself to feel something for this highblood. For Cronus. 

“Alright. You may buy me a drink.”

“That is the shortest sentence I have ever heard you speak, mate.”

He doesn’t want to realize how insecure he is, doesn’t want to face that fact, or put up a facade to hide it, or his blood, but how could he not when he believed that all highbloods were fucking assholes, and that he would surely die at the hands of one? Now he feels a little less this way. Cronus is… Cronus is his friend. He may not always be Humble and Holy, but he is nice for the most part, for a highblood to someone who was never supposed to have lived. He can live with that. Most importantly, he listens to his voice, his weak, shallow, trembling rambling voice. 

When Cronus comes back, he hands Kankri a very dark and frothy beanjuice. Kankri has never been a fan of black coffee, or anything too bitter, but he can at least have a taste of what Cronus likes. He takes a sip of the bubbling liquid and makes a face. 

“That bad?”

Kankri swallows thickly. He appreciates Cronus not thinking he’s too weak for a dark, dark roast. He drinks the whole thing. It’s bittersweet. 

“I hate it.” 


End file.
